


The Heart's Still Wild

by cakeisnotpie



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And Phil's happy about it, Asgardians are different, Dom/sub Undertones, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Some caveman like behavior, Sparring, but Tony likes it, delicious deserts, it's Thor's fault, my first a/b/o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Aye. ‘Tis easier when you are not attracted to another. Or when an Omega in heat presents themselves,” Thor agreed. “That is the true struggle of being an alpha; to clamp down upon our baser urges and allow another to chart the course.”</p><p>Clint coughed, hand to his mouth, and he grabbed his beer, drinking a long swallow to clear his throat. “Present themselves? Omegas still do that on Asgard? Get down on all fours and offer up their ass for all takers?” His voice dripped with anger, his disgust at the image plain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart's Still Wild

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amireal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amireal/gifts).



> So, this is my first alpha/omega/beta fic. My thanks go out to Amireal for her help in crafting this world and the outline of the plot. She was invaluable as a sounding board; some of her best lines are incorporated here. Thanks for the plot bunny, Ami!
> 
> Also, a shout out to the amazing writers over at C/C chat for helping me work out the "cup or strap" dilemma. I expect to see Stark Straps popping up in lots of fics now. :))))

It was all Thor’s fault.

Stupid perfect specimen of manhood, freakin’ alien god from Asgard. Ever since he’d arrived at the tower to take up his room, things had gone to hell. Yeah, everything had been under control, just like they were supposed to be, then Mister Super Alpha Extraordinaire showed up and, bam, I was standing on a rooftop, picking off stray monster cats from some realm I couldn’t name with a pounding headache that made me want to drill a hole to release the pressure. Preferably right this second before I threw up and the light blinded me permanently. Thank God … aka Tony Stark … for my adjustable special lens that let me practically filter all all the brightness, or I’d be on the ground, crying, curled up in a ball.

“They’re heading for the park!” Steve barked over the comms. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. Growling like some neolithic cave man version of a dominant alpha, not at all like the sincerely nice guy that he usually was. Too nice sometimes, if you asked me, but, hey, that was miles ahead of the issuing orders Steve who was on the ground, leading the charge. “Coulson, we need evac ASAP. Too many civilians.”

“I’ve got a bead on ‘em,” Tony called out. “Just give me a sec …”

“Negative, Iron Man. Chance of casualties is too high. Pull back.” Steve was a perfect example of a modern alpha. At least he had been until Thor came back. Under control, respectful of omegas, pro-beta rights … he even had his ruts only a twice a year, and he could walk right through a crowd of adoring fans on the worst day without blinking twice at the women with their boobs hanging out.

“Damn it, Steve, I’ve got this.” Tony argued. Stark was the most alpha omega I had ever met. He used to deal with the monthly hormonal shifts by enjoying sex … a lot of it with anyone and everyone who was game … and I wasn’t going to argue with success. No “oh, God, mount me now, take me, fuck me” heats for Tony; he might fit the profile of an omega with his obsessive need to solve people’s problems by throwing money at them or building them things, but Tony had his dick right where he wanted it. Well, maybe not, since he really wanted to get into Steve’s pants, but that wasn’t happening with Cap currently doing his protect-the-omegas thing.

“I’ve got a shot,” I called. If I squinted and pretended I had a head wound instead of a migraine, I could see the strangely dressed dude … or dudette, I couldn’t tell and what did gender matter anyway? A crazy evil genius was a crazy evil genius. “One cat whisperer going down.”

I’d already let the arrow fly when Cap gave me the go ahead; fuck him, I didn’t need an alpha to tell me what to do. I could damn well take out a target by myself. Goddamn fucking hormonal headache. I hadn’t had one this bad in … well, last one I remembered was when I was stranded in that cabin in Siberia for three months without my pills. That was before SHIELD developed the twelve month long shot.

“Excellent job, Hawkeye!” Thor crowed, his voice booming in my ears, setting off another way of pain. “With the psychic control lost, rounding up the cats of Skornheim will be much easier. They are particularly found of a certain herb, nepeta of the lamiaceae family. Will come for miles if they smell it. Has anyone heard of it?”

“Catnip?” Tony replied. “Seriously? Get them high and they’ll roll over and show their bellies?”

“Aye, that is an apt metaphor,” Thor agreed.

I sank down in the shade of the air conditioning unit, looking for some relief. What I wanted was to go back to my room, turn the temperature down until it was freezing, turn off all the lights, have JARVIS pull down the blinds, and take a handful of pain meds. But I had to get from there to here first and walking was like jangling my brain in my skull.

This was just the beginning, I knew. My damn cycles had never been regular like others. They came when they wanted and stayed for however long they could. First was the headache, then the emotional swings, then the cramps would start, debilitating and humiliating for an omega. I’d walk around slick for days, changing pads every few hours until the worst was over. Then I’d be blessed with headache version number two, the return of the migraine from the depths of hell. A week, if I was lucky, maybe more since it had been so long since I’d had one like this.

“Friend Clint. You do not appear well.” Thor had landed in front of me at some point and I didn’t even know it. A wash of Thor’s scent overwhelmed me; my headache receded enough to stand, hand on the metal of the housing for balance.

“I’ve got a headache.” I managed to say. “Go help with the round up. I’ll call Phil for a ride.”

Thor cocked his head, leaned in and sniffed. The closer he got, the better I felt as the chemicals in my brain reacted to an alpha’s nearness. That was in and of itself strange, a throwback to darker times when alpha’s could override an omega’s will just with pheromones alone.

“Why did you not say you were in heat?” Thor asked kindly. That was the problem. Thor wasn’t a bad guy. He was just a freakin’ fertility god. With really defined pecs and biceps and glorious long blonde hair. “Shall I call your alpha to come take care of you?”

“I didn’t know I was even close,” I told him. “And I don’t have an alpha, okay? I can take care of myself. We do that here on Midgard.”

“Yes, so everyone keeps telling me. I do not understand why you have tried to breed the need out of your genetics. It is the best part of the chase, the challenge of mind over body.” He was honestly puzzled at why Earth culture had evolved to value a clinical view of reproduction over the more violent battles for dominance of the past. With advances in medicine, fewer omegas suffered from heat syndrome, alphas weren’t driven mad by their ruts, and betas were even able to more easily conceive children. All nice and civilized thanks to the miracles of modern medicine. Betas had made strides in equal rights in the last few decades; at least they weren’t as tormented in school as much anymore. Omegas? Well, we were still expected to go into lesser paying fields, all service minded and without the drive to be successful. They separated omegas during sex education classes, the burden of birth control firmly in our court -- an alpha’s virility was tied up in how many omegas he or she mounted. Not that male omegas could get pregnant; evolution had determined that the equipment needed to carry a child wasn’t necessary for male omegas, leaving us with the joy of heats with only the tiniest chance of a pregnancy taking. There was a guy in Finland a few years ago; had to take the baby too early and the kid had all sorts of developmental issues.

“Look, can we have a history lesson on human sexuality later?” I asked. Even with Thor’s scent, the headache was growing stronger. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

I ran to the corner and threw up the contents of my stomach, not much since I hadn’t eaten that morning. Heats put me off my feed at first; I’d be eating like crazy in a few days to make up for it. The pain came in waves; Thor’s hands were warm as he gathered me up. I don’t remember the flight back to the Tower, time lost to what felt like nails being driven into my skull. When the cool sheets hit my bare skin, I looked up into Tasha’s concerned face; she helped me dry swallow two pills before she left me with a breeze blowing across my body in the pitch dark room.

 

* * *

 

Clean up was a bitch. We went from corralling vicious animals to everyone making vines of the big cats stretched out on their backs in the grass, purring loudly. How short memory was; less than thirty minutes ago those creatures people were oohing and aahing over had been trying to kill them. The human capacity for rationalization never ceased to amaze me.

“We’ve got this covered,” Quartermaine told me. He waved a tranquilizer dart gun towards me. “Nice old fashioned sleepy gun like Mutual of Omaha. We’ll cart them back to headquarters. I know you’ll want to get to the Tower to check on Barton.”

“Barton?” Last I’d heard, he’d taken the guy controlling the creatures down. There’d been a statement from Steve that Clint was accounted for, but that’s all I knew. Not like we were talking or anything; Clint was still pissed about the whole dying-not-dying thing. Oh he said he was over it but I knew him well enough to read his tells; something was off. And it didn’t help that I was keeping my distance because the magic they used to bring me back had played havoc on my cycle. Asgardian doctors, it seemed, didn’t understand human endocrine systems.

“Thor had to fly him back; something about a migraine? I remember that time in Mexico City; hope he gets better soon.” Quartermaine walked off to start tagging the cats.

Migraine. Mexico City. That meant … hope jumped in my chest and I squashed it down. Clint had made it perfectly clear how he felt about sharing a heat with anyone; he’d go on about his opinions of the whole mate-or-die crowd, those religious zealots who believed we were constrained by our biology to play our roles. Omegas, they said, should want nothing more than to raise babies, to stay barefoot and pregnant, preferably in the kitchen. Alphas were the leaders of the household; their word was law and should be obeyed. Hell, there’d been that big pro-alpha movement a few years ago with stadiums filled with alphas chanting their promises to be loving providers for their omegas.

Not that I believed any of that; I was raised Episcopalian, in a very liberal branch of the church. The local priests in the New York diocese performed weddings for same mating pairs -- alpha/alpha, omega/omega -- along with beta mixed pairings. One of them would even marry same sex couples; last year, the first U.S. male/male, alpha/omega marriage took place just blocks from the park.

Still, I was more old-fashioned than most; I believed in bonding and pre-mating chases. Nothing violent, but there was something to be said for dancing around each other to raise the pleasure of a good heat/rut. I’d always thought I’d be one of those old married men, bonded and sickeningly domestic. Life didn’t work out that way; everyone I’d been interested in pursuing further had either floated out of my life or been off-limits. Like Clint Barton.

I caught a ride back with Steve and Bruce, the last Avengers on the scene. Neither of them knew more than the fact Clint had taken meds without complaint and that Natasha was with him. That made me feel better; Natasha knew all about Clint’s heats and she’d know what to do. I was glad that Natasha was a born beta; despite all the Red Room did to her, making her able to pass as both omega and alpha when the need arose, she prefered the even keel of a beta’s physiology.

“It’s true, Tony. Our warriors battle for permission to bed another. Omegas as strong as you and Clint would command the most powerful of challengers,” Thor was saying as I got off the elevator. “You could decide from a wealth of suitors, take them on in the ring yourself.”

I slammed into the wall that was Steve Rogers’ back when he came to an abrupt halt in front of me. Stepping around him, I saw tension vibrate through his muscles, fists clenched at the sight before him. Tony had stripped out of his armor and was wearing only a low slung pair of jeans with a stained white tank top, the arc reactor glowing through the worn cotton. But that wasn’t the jawdropper; no, Stark was balanced perfectly on Thor’s leg, one arm on the couch, the other somewhere in Thor’s lap. He was leaning into Thor, practically bathing in Thor’s alphaness, the unmistakable odor of Stark’s own heat filling the room.

“Tony!” Steve growled. He honestly growled, deep in the back of his throat, Stark’s name sounding like something said in the heat of orgasm. “What are you doing?”

“Oh hey, Cap!” Tony waved as if he hadn’t seen them walk in. “Thor and I were talking about cultural differences; it’s really fascinating. Bruce, you’d enjoy this.”

Bruce backed away, first one step then another, poised for flight at the door of the room. Damn Stark’s theatrics. Last thing we needed was for Bruce to hulk out and go alpha green on us. As a beta, Bruce was normally immune, but even he was being influenced by Thor’s overwhelming scent. Come to think of it, the Hulk had been more than fixated on proving who was the most powerful over the last few weeks, randomly punching Thor and sparring with him regularly. Since the Hulk seemed to be completely asexual, his alpha behavior came out in his fighting and his dominance over other powerful people.

I should have seen this coming. Steve had certainly been giving off enough clues with his commanding behavior, but I’d been too busy keeping out of Clint’s line of sight to put it all together. Well, I was done with that. Someone needed to get everyone under control.

“That’s enough, Stark,” I said in my best Agent voice. “I have my taser. Don’t make me use it.”

“Issuing orders, Agent Coulson? If I remember right, Cap here is in charge of the Avengers. You’re just a not-dead liaison.” He smiled sweetly, directing his wattage towards Steve. “You going to taser me, Capsicle, or just club me over the head and drag me off by the hair. Been a long time since alphas fought over me.”

“Tony, I do not believe …” Thor began, concern on his face.

Steve preempted whatever Thor was going to say by tossing his gloves on the floor and striding over to scoop Tony up and throw him over his shoulder. Ass in the air, Tony laughed and wiggled, swatting Steve on his butt.

“There we go, big guy. Took long enough.” Tony twisted his body so he could wave as Steve carried him out of the room. “Bye boys! My heats usually last four to five days. See you then.”

I closed my eyes and rubbed a hand over my face. That was a clusterfuck in the making, pun intended. The emotional fallout was going to be huge, and I’d be the one picking up the pieces. At least Natasha seemed unaffected by all the hormones raging around this place. I could count on her to help me deal with the aftermath of Captain America mating with Iron Man. ‘Cause, mark my words, Steve wouldn’t settle for anything less than a bond and Tony wanted him bad enough to try it. If only Tony would admit it and let Steve fully into his life. I didn’t hold out a lot of hope for that.

“I do not understand,” Thor said, rising from the couch. “I had not taken Tony as a lover. He did not ask nor would I offer unless he did. Had I known that Steve was his alpha, I would never have allowed such familiarity.”

“He was using you to get Steve to react,” I explained.

“Ah, I see. Pushing an alpha into making a declaration. That would usually be followed by a challenge fight on Asgard. Not so here, I am led to understand. You do not chase nor fight for your mates.” Thor was bemused.

“Not anymore. We tend to meet, get to know each other, see if we’re compatible and then decide. It’s called dating.” I ran a finger under my collar, easing it away from my skin. It itched and I had to loosen my tie so I could unbutton the first button. “The whole idea of consent is very important to us; we’ve been fighting for years to do away with the notion that omegas want to be taken and used, and that alphas can’t control themselves.”

“An alpha would take an omega against their will?” Thor’s face clouded over; a stray boom of thunder sounded outside despite the blue sky. “Someone who did that would receive a heavy punishment. On Asgard, the omegas truly have all the power; they choose and the losers must, as Clint would say, deal with it.”

A fierce possessiveness rose up in my throat when I heard Thor call Clint by his first name. I didn’t know the two had gotten that close. Why wouldn’t they? Thor was everything an alpha should be: strong, handsome, powerful. He wasn’t a middle aged man with a scar on his chest and a long list of regrets.

“You flew Barton back?” I asked sharply. “How was he?”

“In pain, I’m afraid. I have seen such things before; my brother Baldur was afflicted with the same during his heats. Eir created a healing salve that helped immensely. Would that I could return to my home, I would bring it to soothe Clint.” Thor sounded so sincere and yet Phil’s agitation grew. “Perhaps I shall visit him; my presence seemed to calm him earlier.”

“I’ll take care of Clint,” I snapped. The sound that came from my chest was definitely a rumble; I took a step back, surprised by my own reaction. I had never felt this strong a need to defend someone. I mean, yes, I’d always protected my team, both Clint and Natasha, but this was more … primal.

“Ah.” Thor nodded. “I did not realize that you wished to make Clint your mate. Of course, I will not approach him without your permission. I owe you a great debt, Phillip, and thus I will bow to your suit.”

“No. I’m not, I mean I don’t … we’re not like that.” I couldn’t get the words out. “He’s never felt that way about me and I didn’t tell him for too long after I came back and now … well, let’s just say that boat has left the harbor.”

“You are wrong, my friend.” Thor laid an easy hand on his shoulder. “I think you should speak to Clint. He is not angry with you and has expressed his fear that you no longer wish to be near him. I assured him this was not true, but you have been absent much from team gatherings.”

Perhaps I had been overcautious, but there was no way Clint Barton wanted to be anything more than colleagues and friends. “I’m going to speak to Natasha, check in on him,” I told Thor as I beat a hasty retreat out of the room.

 

* * *

 

I stumbled into the kitchen, desperate for some caffeine. My head felt as fragile as eggshells, but the throbbing had gone away and I was hungry again. The medicine always gave me a bit of a hangover, but I knew a steaming cup of coffee would go a long way towards feeling normal. If all went as usual, I’d have until tomorrow before my heat hit with a vengeance; I was going to make use of that time to get food in my stomach and bulk up on water and muscle relaxants.

 

The scent of alpha hit me as I took down a cup and put it under the dispenser of magical brown liquid. Not Steve -- he smelled like newsprint and licorice to me. Thor was ozone and manly sweat and a hint of sandalwood. This was ink mixed with worsted wool and musk and strangely enough berries -- Phil Coulson.

 

My breath hitched and a band in my chest twisted tight at the sight of him. I thought it would get easier, but it hadn’t. His rolled up sleeves and open collar were almost too much. I was poised on the edge of heat, vulnerable to any stimuli, especially Phil’s scent.

 

“Pot’s fresh,” Phil said, stopping a considerable distance away. “I started it when Natasha said you were up. High octane, kona blend.”

 

My first sip was like nectar from the gods; no cream, just a touch of sugar, and hot, just the way I liked it. I wrapped my hands around the cup to warm them and leaned on the bar. “Thanks. The cats all rounded up?” See? I can be cordial when I want to be.

 

“They’re in special pens awaiting extraction back to their world.” Phil looked worried. “Thor has called Heimdall; someone’s on the way.”

 

“Oh, great, just what we need. Another Asgardian around. Stir things up even more.” I wasn’t sure we could handle more hormones flowing around the Tower. “Next some alpha will be dragging an omega off to bed like a caveman or something.”

 

“Ah, um,” Phil actually blushed as he stumbled over his words. “That’s already happened.”

 

I closed my eyes -- and could still feel the pull of Phil, the niggle in the pit of my stomach that wanted me to throw myself at him and beg him to take me. No, wait, that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to walk over, kiss the hell out of him, then run so he’d chase me. Good God, what was happening to me? “Steve and Tony? Does JARVIS have it on tape?”

 

“Indeed. Master Stark has ask that I save it in multiple locations to assure it doesn’t get lost. He has give permission for viewing, if you wish,” JARVIS replied.

 

“Maybe later, J.” I really didn’t want to see Steve letting his alpha lose and Tony going orgasmic at the sight. That was too close to home right now. “Let me guess. Tony poked and poked until Steve broke.”

 

“He was sitting on Thor’s lap.” Phil shrugged. “They’ve been locked up in the penthouse for a whole day.”

 

Great. Just great. I’m one of those omegas that tend to get in sync with others real fast. Put me in a safe house with another omega about to go into heat, even a contained, medicated one, and I’ll be a day or so behind. I was on a protection detail once where the guy had a pregnant girlfriend and I even started having morning sickness and sympathy back pains. Damn it, with Tony going at it upstairs, my heat was bound to get even worse.

 

“That’s going to be a real mess,” I groused. “Maybe I’ll miss the fall out while I’m out of it.”

 

“When do you think it will start? Your heat, I mean. If you don’t mind me asking,” Phil said. Thing was, my senses were so heightened right now that I got the surge of pheromones as Phil’s alpha tried to assert itself. He tamped it back down immediately, and I had absolutely no idea how sexy that could be. Phil was controlling himself around me. My cock stirred and I shifted my weight to hide the change in my sweatpants below the counter, but Phil’s nostrils flared. He must have smelled the discharge as I slickened just a bit.

 

“I usually get a reprieve for a day. Should happen some time tomorrow. I’ll set up a protocol for JARVIS for food and meds; Natasha knows the drill.”  Or I could just invite Phil to come fuck it out of me. Yeah, that’s what the little voice of my Id was telling me. A good, old-fashioned heat with lots of fucking and a big knot in my ass and Phil’s mouth on my neck, biting … “On that note, I need to go get started. Lots to do.”

 

Retreat isn’t always cowardly; sometimes it’s the best option to keep from running from the man who used to be your boss and one of your best friends but was now avoiding you like the plague so he’d chase you and hold you down and … Yeah, I really needed to stop thinking about it. Phil was breathing faster, and I could see the bulge between his legs growing larger … and larger … and wasn’t that a kick in the ass to know he was responding to me.

 

He restrained himself, just barely, and I got to the door before he spoke. “Clint. I know I haven’t been around much lately.”

 

I ground to a stop, not giving an inch. If I did, I don’t think either of us would leave this room. “It’s okay, Phil. I’m not mad anymore. Not sorry I hit you because you should have told me, but, yeah, I’m just glad you’re here.”

 

“It’s just, well, the procedure affected me, my cycle. Messed it all up, and I wasn’t sure I could control my … urges … around you. Last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable,” he admitted.

 

My reply to that needed to be face-to-face, but I kept the distance between us. “Maybe being uncomfortable is a good thing. I think that was our problem, Phil. We were too comfortable with where we were to take any risks.”

 

“You jump off buildings for a living, Clint,” he said with a tight laugh. “I think you deserve to be comfortable and safe outside of that.”

 

That was too much like an offer; I wanted to tell him he was the one who could do that for me. Fuck, I’d never be in this conversation if it wasn’t for Thor and his damn broadcasting. And Tony’s heat. And the weepiness that crept into the corner of my eyes, hormone induced crying jag on the way.

 

“And you deserve someone who’ll let you do that for them,” I replied then turned and darted down the hall before Phil could answer or see the tears.

 

* * *

 

“You going to let anyone else have some of that?” Natasha asked, her fond smile the one she reserved for Clint.  

 

Clint paused from slurping up his second box of shrimp lo mein, chopsticks halfway between the open carton and his mouth. “I know you ordered extra. Eat your own.”

 

I didn’t expect Clint to show up for the impromptu meal; with Tony and Steve still incommunicado, Bruce had rounded everyone else up and ordered Chinese. With the number of boxes that appeared out of the brown bags, I suspected Bruce had done it mostly to ensure Clint got enough to eat. A full stomach would mitigate the coming cramps and hormonal changes, thus the hunger pangs Clint was feeling now. Bruce might be a beta but he was a born nurturer, a perfect example of how biology and behavior were not pre-destined. Somehow, he cajoled Clint out of his room with copious amounts of spicy noodles and kung pao shrimp. Clint had situated himself in one of the single chairs, leaving the loveseat to Natasha and me and the couch to Thor and Bruce.

 

“So, Phil. Where have you been keeping yourself? We haven’t seen you around the Tower lately.” Natasha’s face was perfectly impassive, but I knew what she was up to. It had occurred to me that she and Bruce were in this together; Bruce, I imagined, was smoothing things over between me and Clint. Natasha? I’d worked with her close to a decade and she was still a mystery. She’d simply blinked when she saw me the first time after my resurrection then gave me a hug and said she was glad to see me. I did know she thought Clint and I were being silly boys; she had no problem telling me that outright. Many, many times.

 

I could use the standard lie of being busy, but I was off my game and knew it. Why I hadn’t left after Clint beat his hasty retreat this morning, I wasn’t sure. I had fully intended to head back to the office; paperwork waited, as always. But Thor had asked some questions then Bruce wanted to see me in the lab; there were a number of excuses I used to stay around. Truth was, I had gotten into the elevator, pushed the lobby button, and made it six floors before I pushed stop, my hand trembling as the itch of under my skin turned into full-fledged rut. My head swam, my heart pounded; I had to clench my fists to keep from smashing them into the paneling. The need to get back, to stay close, to take care of Clint … JARVIS rerouted the elevators, doors opening on the common floor, and informed me I was under distress.  A dip in the pool did a lot to cool off and then Bruce had found me there and dragged me up to eat dinner with them.

 

“There are still aftereffects from the procedure they used to bring me back,” I admitted. “It’s been … difficult … readjusting; that’s why I haven’t been out in the field until recently.”

 

Natasha’s eyes turned on me and I knew that look; she was annoyed that I hadn’t shared the information with her. She trusted so few people and I was one of that select group. I’d hear about my omission later, but for now, she was after another goal. “Aftereffects?” she asked, getting right to the heart of the matter.

 

I tugged the collar of my black SHIELD t-shirt, having left off my suit after the swim, my skin feeling too sensitive to the wool and stiff cotton. Now, sweat beaded on my neck and even the soft worn cotton was irritating. “The Asgardian physicians didn’t account for changes in human biochemistry over the last centuries,” I explained, keeping my eyes away from Clint. “Not even the strongest pills could balance the hormonal shifts. I had to learn all over again.”

 

“They expected you to be the same as the humans we last encountered,” Thor mused. “And you are much different. Then, your ancestors were more savage, much more violent. We tried to set them on the path to controlling their cycles, to learn how to harness their potential. You are a strong warrior, Son of Coul, and I am sure you will be successful. I would be glad to offer advice; I have some experience in disciplining your body as an alpha.”

 

“I’ll take all the help I can get,” I said. In fact, I thought, I could use some right now because it wasn’t the spicy amazing chicken that was making my skin flush. “I can manage around most people; there’s just a few … areas where I still struggle.”

 

I did catch the glance Clint threw me at that statement; his eyes seemed extra blue, the hints of green brighter than usual. He was breathing faster than normal and his cheeks were rosy, his scent wafting across the room and brushing against my skin. Then he looked down and shoveled another bite into his mouth.

 

“Aye. ‘Tis easier when you are not attracted to another. Or when an Omega in heat presents themselves,” Thor agreed. “That is the true struggle of being an alpha; to clamp down upon our baser urges and allow another to chart the course.”

 

Clint coughed, hand to his mouth, and he grabbed his beer, drinking a long swallow to clear his throat. “Present themselves? Omegas still do that on Asgard? Get down on all fours and offer up their ass for all takers?” His voice dripped with anger, his disgust at the image plain.

 

“No,” Thor replied in a gentle tone. “That is not at all what happens. Well, perhaps in private sometimes; I have walked into my chambers to such a sight, but I am man enough to turn them down politely and send them on their way. Presenting is a very formal ritual; the omega comes to the court before their heat and a time is set. Those who wish to mate with the omega announce their intentions, the omega chooses the challengers, and then sets the rules for the ritual. An omega such as you, Clint, would have many lined up for the chance to see you through your heat. You would have your pick of the best.”

 

“They fight each other for the omega?” Natasha asked, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “So to the victor goes the spoils?”  

 

“Ah, I see the misunderstanding,” Thor said. “The alpha challengers fight the omega, not each other. Then the omega chooses whom he wishes … or can choose none at all. For those who are bonded mates, it becomes more sparring and pleasure than a test. My sister, Freya, chooses based upon  not who is the strongest but which one does not pull their punches. She hates to be deferred to and has very specific tastes in bed. Baldur prefers men who smell good to him … I’m not sure why, but he’s very particular. And Volstagg’s wife set her challenge as a drinking game. He out drank her then carried her home and tucked her in bed to sleep it off. They’ve been together ever since.”

 

“Huh,” Bruce said, chewing the idea over like he did with a science problem. “One of the reasons we focused on medical control was to ensure omegas were not taken advantage of. The power differential and ability to consent during heat have always been problematic. Your system puts much of the power in the hands of the omegas. But what if an alpha doesn’t accept an omega’s no or is too far gone to stop?”

 

“Challenges by law must be open and adjudicated. Betas are often chosen as an officiant. If an alpha doesn’t stop, the officiant can order guards to intervene. And for those who force themselves upon an omega, the punishment is very severe: forced sterilization.” Thor’s face grew stony and thunder rumbled outside the window. “We do not accept such behavior.”

 

I sat my plate down in my lap, hoping it would cover the evidence of my growing arousal. Every word Thor spoke stirred me up; my temperature was elevated, I was sweating profusely, and my cock was throbbing, half-hard and jumping against my thigh. The workout pants I was wearing did nothing to hide my state. A long cool drink of green tea didn’t help either. Rut was hovering just beneath my skin and my brain was starting to lose the ability for higher level reasoning. I needed to calm down or get the hell out of here soon. But, damn, the image of Clint, stripped to the skin, glistening with sweat, punching and retreating as we circled each other? That was my wildest, deepest fantasy I’d never spoken out loud.

 

“That sounds interesting, actually.” Clint sounded surprised. “I’ve always felt hunted during my heats, even the mildest ones, like some alpha was going to drag me off by the roots of my hair. To be the one doing the hunting, picking and choosing? Yeah, I like that idea.”

 

“So if I were an omega, I could set an intelligence challenge?” Bruce asked. “Help me solve the problem of gamma radiation?”

 

“Aye, I have seen such things. Fandral once participated in a challenge that involved singing; he didn’t win. His song was too violent, the woman decided,” Thor laughed. “As a beta, you could throw your bid in as well; we do not discriminate although most betas tend towards the matchmakers to find mates.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t think the big guy would understand the rules, but thanks,” Bruce said.

“Maybe someone should have explained this to Tony before he went all neanderthal,” I groused because when I go into rut, I get grumpy. Everything gets on my nerves unless it’s expressly helping my dick get what it wants. Usually, I can handle it by self-medicating with coffee and chocolate bars. Jasper even has a wrapper count chart; if there’s three or more wrappers in the trash can, run the opposite direction. But this was shaping up to be the strongest one I’d ever had.

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Steve.” Bruce grinned. “I have it on good authority that he knew exactly what Tony was up to. Man is not subtle and Steve is not as naive as everyone thinks.”

 

“Amen to that,” Clint added. “I happen to know he orders his shirts too small on purpose; I went shopping with him a couple times.”

 

“So it was all a big game of chicken?” Natasha asked. “That’s so Stark.”

 

“What does poultry have to do with mating?” Thor asked, confused.

 

“Chicken is a game where you see who cracks first. Like running headfirst at each other to see who blinks and swerves,” Bruce explained. “They were seeing who could take the most provocation.”

 

“Ah, yes, I have seen some use this strategy. As long as both know the game, then it can be quite enjoyable.”

 

“Not my style,” Clint said, setting his empty plate on the end table and folding his legs up under him. The move made his t-shirt ride up so a little sliver of skin showed above the elastic waistband of his sweatpants. Part of the curve of his hip was visible, the line of his ab muscles disappearing beneath the cotton. “I don’t want someone to lose control, I want someone who has it in spades.” I found myself staring at that sliver of tan, thinking about how many fingers I could fit, how hard I’d have to press to leave marks. “Maybe some sort of sparring match or something where he had to prove he could stop at anytime.”  I wondered what it would taste like, that sliver, how Clint would shake when I licked across it. “Call time out at random and see if he could do it, you know?” Biting. Biting would be good. Indentations of teeth, no broken skin. “Make him watch others challenge to see how he dealt with it.” The perfect place to grab hold as he ran, to bring the chase to its logical end as I reeled him in for a long, searing kiss. “Make him wait for it until I was ready …” Someone growled, low in their throat, and I fought the urge to jump out of the chair and claim Clint right now.

 

“Okay, that’s it.” Natasha didn’t have to be an alpha for her voice to be a splash of cold water. “Enough. We’re going to the gym and settle this; you two are worse than Tony and Steve. Bruce, can you handle being the sane one?”

 

“If I stay in the control booth,” Bruce agreed, standing up.

 

“Wait a minute,” Clint protested. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You, Clint. Going into heat right now and being too boneheaded to deal with it. You need someone to help you through it. We’re going to try Thor’s idea; you’ve already set the rules, so let’s go.” Natasha stood and reached a hand out to haul Clint up.

 

“Oh, no way am I going to play the Asgardian version of spin the bottle. Besides, there has to be someone to challenge and thanks so much for that humiliation, Tasha.” Clint refused to get up; she caught his arm and pulled anyway.

 

“I would be honored to squire you through your heat, Clint,” Thor said. “You are a valiant companion and worthy of much more than I could offer.”

 

“Idiot,” Natasha said, ruffling his hair. “You know I would help you if you just asked.”

 

“Well, then,” I remarked, seeing my opportunity to escape. “Now that that’s settled, I’ll just clean up the dishes …”

 

“Excuse me, but who was the one growling just now?” Natasha arched an eyebrow his direction. “You’re not getting out of this, Phil. There’s a time for everything, remember? Time to man up.”

 

I should never try to give Natasha a pep talk; she has an eidetic memory and quotes my words back at me at the worst times. “And there’s a time to face the facts; Clint has been very clear about what he wants in a mate and it’s not me.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Clint interrupted, taking a step towards me. Still seated, Clint loomed as he looked down.

 

“Asheville.” One word was enough, I hoped, because it was all I could get out; I clamped my mouth shut before I said even more embarrassing things.    

 

“Oh my God. Seriously?” Clint leaned over and bracketed his arms on either side of my head. “I was half out-of-my head with that blue goop and cramping something fierce. All i remember is wanting to curl up with a hot water compress and a huge bottle of muscle relaxants. What the hell did I say?”

 

“You rambled about how you hate traditional alphas who want to chase you and hold you down. That they were all bastards and you’d rather die than let one near you.” Every word was seared into my memory; I couldn’t forget the rancor that colored Clint’s voice as he ground them out.

 

“Jesus, Phil.” Clint pushed up and stepped away; the temperature in the room dropped a couple degrees. “Remember when you found me in that alley? The guy that you dropped? They’d already sprayed me down with the stuff and set him on me. He’d been chasing me for close to thirty minutes. I was hallucinating he was still after me.”

 

Anger coursed through me and a fierce pride that I had been the one to take the kill shot. “That wasn’t in your report,” I said. Bruce stepped away as a wave of scent washed out of me. I knew I was broadcasting loud and clear, but I didn’t give a damn. “You should have told someone.”

 

“I should have told you, I know, but we’d just worked a couple ops together. Still didn’t have a good read on you yet. Nothing happened, I dealt with it, and, yes, I talked to the shrink about it. But all this time, that’s why you didn’t say anything? Because you’re old-fashioned?” Clint tilted his head and waited my answer.

 

“Yes, and I would never ask you to change.”

 

“We’re both idiots, Nat.” His laugh was like gasoline on the fire in my gut, flaring up to brightness. “So, we do this thing, are you in or out, Phil?”

 

“I would see you through your heat, Clint. If you’ll have me.” It felt like my whole soul went out with those words, offering myself up on a platter.

 

“Okay, now if I’ve got this right, I can accept or decline, correct?” Clint asked. Thor nodded. “Alright then, doesn’t seem fair to stringing someone along when I already know the answer, so …”

 

“I thought you wanted to make him prove his control?” Natasha interrupted, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “I have no problem with being used if you two get your shit together finally. It will be just like a regular sparring match.”

 

“Nor does it bother me,” Thor said. “I already knew of Phil’s desire to be your alpha, and I am sure I can find a suitable companion later. I would enjoy being part of two such warriors coming together for the first time.”

 

“Well, then, it’s settled.” Natasha smirked my way. “To the gym.”

 

* * *

 

Getting ready diverted me enough that I was able to change into suitable sparring clothes. I slipped into a tank and shorts after I put on one of Stark’s patented straps because Natasha was going to go full out like she always did. I gave Tony grief about wanting his name on other guys’ cocks, but I like my junk right where it is, thank you. The fabric he invented was even better protection than a cup but flexible enough to get a boner and not feel squeezed. Why he had to call the damn thing a Stark Strap, well, Tony was Tony. And yeah, my ass was free and, damn, I was already slickening up again just at the thought of what was next.

 

Then I was standing on the mats, looking at the three of them lined up and waiting; if I’d been thinking clearly, I’d probably be ashamed of myself for enjoying this, but pre-heat was hitting hard. Thor was stripped down to just a shirt and workout pants; he’d been introduced to the joy of comfortable clothes, but no one had the guts to tell Thor his package made our brains short circuit. Natasha’s smile scared me; I knew she could turn on her seductive powers and I’d play dead, but she’d never tried it on me and I was grateful. We’d been reluctant partners who became friends and that was for the best. No, Natasha had something else in mind, and I didn’t have a clue.

 

Phil … well, Phil looked like sex and pie rolled into one. Sue me, I crave sweets when I’m in heat; ice cream with caramel syrup in bed was a specific fantasy of mine. Didn’t matter Phil was in the same sweats and t-shirt from before; everything about him appealed to me. I had to tamp down the urge to fling myself at him and beg. Confident, strong, stable, capable, and authoritative, Phil was everything I’d never thought I’d want but had always desired.

 

“Okay, here’s the way this is going to work.” Maybe if I talked, I could get my brain working again. “Fifteen minutes each. I can call hold or time out whenever I want and you have to deal with it. No overt sexual behavior … no kissing or copping a feel. Any fighting style is acceptable. And Phil goes last.”

 

The others nodded, and Thor stepped onto the mat. He promptly peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside.

 

“Oh, that’s not fair,” I complained. Thor was seriously ripped, like porno movie abs. “I said nothing overtly sexual.”

 

“I am warm. It is acceptable on Midgard for men to be bare chested.” Thor grinned. “If this bothers you …”

 

“No, no, I guess I can’t lecture about control and not show my own.” Plus, I knew who I was going to walk out of here with, so what did it matter? “Let’s do this.”

 

Bruce, tucked behind the safety glass so the Big Green guy didn’t get the brunt of the raging hormones that were about to be released, started the clock. I barely had time to blink before Thor charged, shoulder down and aimed for my midsection. He meant to take me down, his full strength behind the move. Instead, I sprang to the left, a cartwheel and spin forward to avoid Thor’s fist as he swung where I would have been if I’d jumped back.

 

Thor’s scent enveloped me; it should have clouded my brain, made me sluggish and slow. That’s what had happened before during my heats; being around alphas usually made me irritable and more likely to make bad decisions. Instead, my vision was crisper, my muscles loose and ready. I sidestepped Thor’s next feint, landing a kick on the back of his thigh before I danced out of range, a strange energy surging through me. Liquid heat ran in my veins; I rolled under Thor’s reach and came up swinging on the other side.

 

“You feel it? The way the world is sharper?” Thor asked, faking a roundhouse, but following through with an uppercut which missed. “That’s how it’s supposed to be, a harmony in your body, muscles and blood and sinew and brain, working together to one end.”

 

“To get laid?” I had to laugh as I kicked off the side of the pommel horse and flipped up and over. Landing on my toes, I was moving again in the second it took Thor to turn. “So all I have to do is run rings around you, and there’ll be no cramps or pain or headaches?”

 

“Give your body what it needs, your mind what it craves, and your soul what it desires, and, yes, a heat or rut can be a glorious thing.” Thor’s hand whipped out and caught my wrist, spinning me around until one of my arms was trapped against my chest and the other twisted behind my back. My ass sat squarely in the box of his hips, his cock resting against me. Very, very big and very, very heavy cock. God, what would Thor’s knot be like? I hadn’t been knotted in ages … very few people did that unless they were trying to have a baby. Suddenly I was drooling at the thought of it, being full to bursting and taking even more.

 

“Time,” I called in a thready voice. I sucked in a breath and felt Thor’s cock jerk as I shimmied a little, testing his hold. “You can really just walk away from this if I ask?”

 

“Yes,” he said, so close his breath ruffled my hair. “Might not be pleasant and I’d definitely find a willing bed partner, but if that’s your choice, I’ll respect it.”

 

“What, you got a black book full of names? Just dial one up at any hour?” That wouldn’t surprise me, really.

 

“In Asgard, I would already have chosen someone and, yes, I have a few numbers to call.” Thor tightened his grip and slipped a knee behind mine, ready to take me down as soon as I set the clock ticking again. “Do you yield the match?”

 

“Time!” As soon as I opened my mouth, I folded to the mat, using my momentum to take Thor with me. An elbow for leverage and I rolled him beneath me, straddling him and pinning both wrists to the floor. He probably let me pin him; godlike powers after all, right? If anything, Thor’s cock thickened, and I swear I could feel a bump at the base; I was not going to swoon like some teenage girl, but, damn. Okay? Just damn.  “No, I do not yield.”

 

“Do you know why I have a beard?” Thor’s eyes darkened and his hands tightened on my hips. “To catch the slick I miss while I open you with my tongue.”

 

“Oh, fuck.” I reeled back, the words knocking me off my game. Thor took full advantage to buck me off and grind his cock up into mine as he did. I barely had time to roll out of the way to avoid him catching me with a takedown blow. “Nothing sexual,” I complained.

 

“You said no sexual behavior,” Thor argued. “You did not mention words.”

 

“He’s got a point,” Natasha agreed, entirely too pleased with the proceedings.

 

“Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face,” I called over at her.

 

“Don’t confuse me with Thor,” she shot back.

 

I got one good glance in at Phil; his arms crossed his chest, his blue eyes were dark and following every move. His scent hit me full on, drowning out Thor’s, making my ass clench and my cock try to harden even further in the strap. Then Thor attacked, going for a half-nelson hold; I slithered out with sweaty skin but he got a hand on my bicep. As I swept my leg around, he turned too and we both landed on the mat in a tangle of limbs. My face ended up in his chest, his face far too close to the band of my shorts. Scrabbling, I flipped up on my feet, but he yanked them back out from under me, rolling me onto my front and using his weight to keep me down.

 

For a second, fear flashed through me, old childhood memories too distant to be clear. My stomach cramped in sharp slices, and my mood swung out over a dangerous edge. I dragged in a deep breath and tried to find my center.

 

As if he sensed what was going on in my head, Thor shifted ever so slightly, elevating his hips and resting more of his weight onto his elbows and knees than me. “I will not force you,” he murmured in my ear. “You have my word.”

 

“I know.” And I did. Thor’s nearness became comforting again as I relaxed. The cramps faded and my head cleared. Bruce called time. “So, a draw then?” I joked.

 

“A draw it is,” he agreed. I stood and gave him a hand up.

 

“I thank you for your offer,” I said as I stepped off the mat and took the bottle of water Natasha handed me. “But I have to decline.”

 

With an accepting nod, Thor grabbed a towel and began wiping down. I did the same, sucking down half the bottle before I put it aside and turned to Natasha, careful to maintain a distance from Phil. I’d felt good while sparring with Thor, so much that I hadn’t noticed how far my heat had progressed. Familiar aches in my gut and in my head were there, along with the one behind my left eye that always hovered like a knife about to slide in. But far more intense was the burning need for Phil to throw me against the wall ... that one right there would be fine … and fuck me into tomorrow and beyond. I was in heat alright. Instead of giving in and jumping Phil, I walked back onto the floor.

 

“I’m not going to take my shirt off,” Natasha declared as she followed, muscles popping as she rotated her shoulder. “No draw either. I expect nothing but your best.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” I meant it to be sarcastic but it came out far too submissive. The flare in Natasha’s eyes was enough to punch the breath out of my lungs; I knew that’s what she liked … I could talk about control all I wanted, but, in the end, what I needed was trust. Natasha? She never handed the reins over to anyone. Just didn’t do it for her.

 

Turning my profile to where Thor and Phil had taken to opposite corners of the room, I dropped into stance and got ready. Sparring with Natasha was like stepping onto a dance floor with my favorite partner. We worked well together, playing off each other’s strengths and my weaknesses. Now, however, she could use that very knowledge against me; I was going to have to mix things up if I wanted to last even five minutes. I took a deep breath and felt the aches and pains drift away as the familiar routine of attack and retreat settled in my head.

 

Thor had been strength and raw power; Natasha was quick and elegant, lethal strikes and unexpected feints. A fast flurry of hits as she advanced; I countered one, two, three, and dodged the fourth, rolling under her leg and bouncing back with my own. A back flip into a spinning kick; she was there then gone, using my own momentum to get out of the way. Back and forth we went, and we fell into a rhythm that was a close to perfect as I’ve ever felt, as if we knew where the other was going to be, circling and closing in some sort of intricate web. It was like building to an orgasm, the slow climb of tension to a coming release.

 

I should have known she was only reeling me in. She was good, the best, and she intended to teach me a lesson. Just when my feet hit the edge of the mat and I prepared to spring back, she changed her fighting style, smooth punches now a sharp jab that caught me in the midsection. I huffed and took a halting step then the room whirled and I was flat on my stomach with a very boney knee pressed into the small of my back. Fingernails dug into the tender skin of my scalp as she yanked my head up.

 

“Look at him,” she murmured in my ear. “See how much he wants you?”

 

Phil. Standing there, practically vibrating with need. Fists clenched until they trembled. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, muscles tensed to spring, coiled so tight he looked like he might break. But he didn’t, despite the smell of sex that drenched my nostrils and ran right down to my cock. Even with the dark spot on his pants where he was leaking, hard and thick and so very clearly aching. He locked eyes with me and I swear I could have come right then and there, without a single touch from him; all he had to do was say one word and I’d roll over, audience be damned.

 

I kicked my heel into her calf and took the sharp pain when her knee pressed against my kidney as I rolled her off of me. A rush of adrenaline or maybe just Phil’s presence made everything very clear, and I drove her back with a flurry of fists and feet, using every available space, running up the wall and flipping over her. We moved around the whole floor and she was sweating to keep up with me as I varied my styles, throwing the usual out the window and forgetting to worry about what I couldn’t do. I might have taken her if I hadn’t seen Phil lean forward as I tumbled out of her grasp, slamming my shoulder down hard and not even feeling it. Concern clouded his eyes, and I broke concentration for just a second to smile at him.

 

In a heartbeat, my face was smashed into the blue mat, a weight across my shoulder blades, an arm wrapped under one knee, holding it in tight to my chest. Blinking to clear the sweat from my eyes, I knew my ass was in the air, legs spread, Natasha keeping me that way. I couldn’t see Phil from this angle, just a stack of punching bags, and a heavy weight plummeted into my gut as I realized what she was doing.

 

“Nat,” I begged.

 

“You leaking yet?” She said, lips close to my ear. “Wet enough that he can tell?”

 

“Oh, God,” I closed my eyes and struggled, but she had me dead to rights. I was presenting to Phil and, damn it all to hell, I liked it.

 

“You know I love you, Misha, but you are one of the stubbornest men I’ve ever met. Stubborn or stupid, I’m not sure.” Her breasts were pressed along my back and all I could think about was what Phil was doing. A burst of slick slid out and dribbled down my thigh; he couldn’t miss the revving up of my scent. “You want to submit to him. You trust him. He wants you. Get over it and let him catch you.”

 

“Says the woman who nevers spends more than one night with anyone.” I might be in a humiliating position, but I’m always snarky. “But, yeah, you might be right.”

 

“Which means I win.” She let him go and stood up, offering him a hand. I climbed up, the fabric of my shorts clinging to my ass, and gave her a little bow for which I got a light cuff on the head and a hair ruffle.

 

“He’s all yours,” she called to Phil; she walked passed Thor and linked her arm with his and strolled them both out of the room. “So, got any of that Asgardian mead?”

 

“I’m out of here,” Bruce said over the speaker. “Good luck. Jarvis can monitor you if you need it.”

 

And then it was just the two of us, staring at each other. Nothing witty came to mind, so I just stood there like a dummy, wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs and emitting so much scent that the room reeked of me.

 

“So,” I finally managed.

 

“So,” Phil replied.

 

We stood for another few heartbeats.

 

“You going to stand there?” I blurted out.

 

“You want me to come there?” He asked at the same time.

 

“Let’s do this.” I took my place, tore the sweaty shirt over my head. He hesitated, hands on the hem of his t-shirt; took me a second to get it. “It’s okay, Phil. It’s part of you.”

 

He sighed then pulled off his shirt; the scar was raised and not yet faded, an ugly mar of tissue in the middle of his chest. I didn’t try to hide my stare, looked my fill then tilted my eyes up to his. “Get in the ring, Phil. JARVIS, start the clock, please, on my mark.”

 

Phil’s alpha scent wrapped around me like a blanket of warmth. Thor had made me want. Natasha made me safe. Phil … Phil was all that and so much more. He was the air that I needed to breathe, clean and clear and energizing. He was the food I needed to survive, filling and sweet and spicy. He was the water I needed to drink, cool and crisp and soothing. He was the ground I needed for stability, strong and sure and secure. And he was the alpha I needed to finish me, to fill me, and to free me.

 

And, God above, that was the sappiest thing I’d ever thought. Like some freakin’ Lifetime movie. A Christmas one at that. What the hell was I doing? This was about sex, that’s all, not some happily ever after fairytale ending. I wanted Phil to fuck me, not carry me off on some white horse. I repeated that in my head, hoping to convince myself it would be enough.

 

“Ready?” I asked once Phil was in position. At his nod, I called, “Start the clock.”

 

The first few feints were tentative, feeling each other out. I shivered as the air kicked on in the gym, breeze blowing across my bare skin, hyper aware of my body. Then Phil punched, and I rolled under it, arm sliding along his as I blocked. Another series … punch, dodge, punch, spin … and my back was flush against his chest before we parted again. We circled, Phil stalking, me evading, falling into the hypnotic spell of the challenge. Every movement, every thought was sharp, like time delayed slow motion. Each touch was magnified until my whole body throbbed along with my heartbeat. I hooked an ankle behind Phil’s and pivoted away as he tried to grapple me into a hold. I wanted to run away, and I wanted to fold into him.

 

I’d thought Thor’s way would be primitive, violent, old-fashioned, but it was primal, intuitive, perfect. We moved as one, without thought or planning, ... damn, we could kick ass in a fight … instinctual and organic. The pain and the emptiness didn’t exist, just need and heat and desire that drove us. And I was doing it again, spiraling out of the moment and into a cheese fest of hackneyed phrases, every romantic cliche …

 

“Unf.” The breath knocked out of me as I went down on my back. I stared up into Phil’s eyes, felt his hands around my wrists, his knees beside my hips, his cock barely brushing mine.

 

“Lost your train of thought there, didn’t you?” Phil gloated.

 

“Damn phermones. You’re distracting as hell,” I groused. I canted up my hips and ground my cock against Phil’s, once, twice, and a third time in tight little circles.

 

“You’re breaking the rules,” Phil complained, clamping his knees together and holding Clint in place.

 

“And?” I asked, wiggling some more. “What are you going to do about it?”

 

“Whatever you want.” He dipped his head, sniffing up my chest and along the curve of my neck. I bit my lip to keep the moan inside then changed my mind and let it out. “You smell like maple syrup and blueberries.”

 

“Funny.” I had to chuckle. “I think you smell like pie.”

 

Wasn’t hard to break his hold and roll out from under him. As much as I wanted to stay right there beneath him, a part of me was yearning to go. Phil had proven his control for me; now I was going to give him what he desired. Once I was up, I took three steps and looked over my shoulder at him.

 

“Maybe we can order pancakes and pie after the first knotting,” I said with a grin. God, but I was soaking wet at just saying the word. “Of course, you’ve got to catch me first.”

 

I ran.

 

* * *

 

First time I went into full rut I was seventeen years old; a late bloomer, my mother announced to my father, much to my chagrin. Both of them were very liberal in their views on gender and biology; sometimes I thought they would have been happier if I’d presented as a beta than an alpha. Mom was a progressive omega who worked outside the house and Dad was a stay-at-home beta who refused to buy me gendered toys. When Grandad Coulson gave me a toy gun for Christmas, Dad had a fit and refused to let me visit Boston until Grandmom called and soothed things over.

 

They put me on suppressants right away; no chance of any excessive hormonal overdrives for my puberty. It wasn’t until I enlisted in ROTC, much to my parents’ horror, that I started to learn how to harness my alpha and use it to my benefit. Being alpha in the army wasn’t unusual and the violence I witnessed did more to make me understand my parents’ concerns than any lecture they ever gave me.

 

None of that did away with the urge for a traditional alpha/omega relationship. Relationship were hard enough as a soldier and then an agent, and I managed a few with a couple nice omegas and one very good looking beta, but none of them were interested in more than a sometime thing. Knotting was a thing of the past, the magazines said, the modern omega able to achieve orgasm without being tied. Hell, there was a whole section of books devoted to pregnant alphas and alphas who wanted to stay home.

 

Clint Barton had come into my life and plowed his way through all my well-built barriers. Of course, my libido would settle on an omega as strong and stubborn as him. At first, it was just pure lust; the man has always had a fine ass and set of biceps. But then we started working together and we fit -- same sense of humor, problems with trust, a habit of sass. If I thought outside the box, Clint was in the next county. And somehow, it all worked so well that we saved lives and stopped the bad guys … and that was more important than my nighttime fantasies. If Thor hadn’t shown up, his asshole of a brother hadn’t driven a spear through my chest and his people bring me back, we’d probably still be stuck in hormone limbo.

 

Instead, I was stalking Clint through the Tower in a haze of the strongest rut I’d ever felt. I didn’t care who saw me, hard and leaking in my sweats, feet shoved into tennis shoes, and wearing no shirt. All that registered was Clint’s scent and my world narrowed down to one goal. He thought he had the advantage, living here, but JARVIS and I had a long standing friendship that trumped Clint’s knowledge of passageways and freight elevators. I almost caught him in the service access, but he jumped the railing and climbed up two flights before I could run the stairs. Got a hand on his ankle when he slid over one of the metal tables in Bruce’s lab, but he only grinned as he tossed a microscope my way, knowing I’d catch it.

 

My hands were rock steady, my eyes sharp, my brain firing on all cylinders. I had always heard that an alpha in full rut would be little more than pure id, sexual drive in charge. But I knew exactly what was happening, had plans forming in my head. Clint always like to be up high -- he could watch over everyone from there, see patterns, protect those he cared about -- and I knew how to catch him.

 

“Jarvis, how many places on the roof are outside of the security cameras?” I asked as the elevator rose.

 

“There are two blind spots and both are only accessible through surveillance areas,” the A.I. responded.

 

“Good. Here’s what I want you to do.”

 

I saw Clint pause before the door, sniffing my scent coming from the corridor inside. As Clint backed away, I appeared behind him, downwind, blocking his only other exit.

 

“That predictable, am I?” he smiled. “I knew you’d figure out the roof, but being two places at once? That’s a good trick.”

 

“Jarvis is amazing, isn’t he?” I replied.

 

All it took was one step forward and Clint darted through the door, jumping at the closing door of the elevator … and right into my arms. Clint was surprised, letting me get the drop on him. I spun him around and pressed his back up against the wall as the door closed on us.  

 

“Getting Jarvis to project a hologram? Damn, Phil, that was a smooth move,” he half-grudgingly exclaimed. “I’m getting predictable.”

 

I wrapped my palms around his biceps and leaned in, slotting our bodies together; Clint’s eyes grew dazed as our hips bumped.  “The day you do what’s expected will be the day hell freezes over.”

 

“I should keep fighting, right? That’s how this works?” Clint’s voice grew breathy and dropped an octave as he felt my cock slide along his. “Never done this. Want to do it right. For you.”

 

“As long as it’s you, I’m happy.” I dipped my nose into the curve of his neck and he rolled his head to the side, baring the line of his throat, an instant sign of submission. My cock had been leaking the whole time; the scent of the bonding gland, so close, made me groan against Clint’s skin.

 

“Please,” Clint murmured. “I need …”

 

Shifting, I slipped a leg between Clint’s and he canted his hips up, taking advantage of the friction to rub against my thigh, leaving a wet streak on my sweats. He smelled so good, tasted of sweat and salt under my lips as I sucked a bruise in his skin.  No way to stop now, I slipped one hand under the waistband of his shorts and dipped down between his cheeks to cover my fingers in his slick.

 

“Phil,” he moaned as I teased him with a fingertip, circling his tight hole. God, he was clenching already, rubbing faster and faster, so ready to come for me.

 

“Take the edge off,” I told him against the curve of his ear. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

 

Like that, he arched and came, eyes closing as tension was released. I eased my finger in up to the first knuckle, and he bucked again, shorts sticky and covered with come.

 

“Inside me. Now,” he groaned. “Want you.”

 

We were past conversation, down to short sentences filled with need. Thank God, Jarvis spoke up and reminded me we were at Clint’s floor and the door was open; neither of us had noticed. It was a toss up who dragged who down the hallway and into Clint’s rooms, but we were entangled the whole way, kissing and exploring each other’s bodies with our hands. The kitchen counter was as far as we made it before I couldn’t take it anymore; turning Clint around and bending him over the edge, I yanked down the sodden mess of his shorts and tossed them away, revealing that glorious ass I had fantasized about.

 

In some areas, I’m definitely a modern alpha; I can’t begin to understand people who deny themselves the absolute guilty pleasure of pleasing their omega in other ways than penetration. Not to brag, but I’m damn good with my tongue and I had to know what Clint tasted like. Right this very second. It would take some time for him to be ready to go again, and this was the perfect way to get him wound back up. I don’t think he understood when I got on my knees, but when I pulled his cheeks apart with my thumbs, he groaned my name and thumped his head down on the granite.

 

“Fuck, Phil. Oh my God.”

 

I started on his thighs, cleaning up the clear slick that had dribbled down with long strokes of my tongue. Clint wiggled, spread his legs more, and made the most delightful noises with each touch. I could get addicted to this Clint, punchy on hormones, relaxed, needy,  pushing back into my mouth as a string of grunts and groans and curses fell from his lips. Then I circled his hole, dipped the tip of tongue inside, and licked the curve where his ass met his thigh all the way around. I kept going back, longer each time, and dipping in deeper and deeper until I was fucking him with my tongue in quick thrusts. He was begging by then, what sounded like a sob in his throat, his cock hardened and bobbing, ready to go again.

 

“Please, please, please,” he babbled. “Please fuck me. Fuck me, Phil.”

 

How could I say no to that? My omega needed, and I was going to take care of him. Always.

 

Standing up, I smacked him lightly on the ass before I slipped my arm under his chest and covered his body with mine. “Here? In the Kitchen? Want me to knot you in clear view of the windows and all of Manhattan?”

 

“Yes. Want them to know I’m yours. Oh God, I’ve never felt like this before, Phil. So damn good.” Clint circled his hips, deliberately rubbing my cock over his ass.

 

A thought hit me just then. “Oh, shit. Condoms. You don’t happen to have any alpha ones, do you?”

 

“Damn it to hell. No, just regular.” Clint tensed under me and buried his head in his crossed hands. “Fuck it all.”

 

“Gentlemen, if I may. Agent Romanov said she left a care package for you in the bedroom. I was to tell you at the right moment,” Jarvis said.

 

Clint began to laugh and I joined him. Natasha had, as always, foreseen every complication.

 

“Bedroom it is,” I said, drawing Clint up with me.

 

The ridiculously sized California king bed was turned down, a pad covering the sheets, one lamp burning on the table.  Bottles of water in an ice bucket, a bottle of muscle relaxants, some bars of chocolate all sat next to Stark tablet. The other table held what looked like an assortment of brands, colors, and sizes of condoms -- I recognized a couple of the really expensive ones that probably came from Tony’s stash -- and a variety of lotions, lubes and oils. Natasha didn’t do things halfway.  Stopping to strip out of my pants, by the time I looked back up, Clint had climbed on the bed, on his hands and knees, and was presenting himself to me.

 

Like a punch to the gut, the truth hit me. I didn’t want to see Clint through one heat. I wanted to be right here for all of his heats. I wanted to be more than a mating partner, I wanted to be his only partner. I wanted to sink my teeth into his gland and bond us together both now and forever. I was in so deep and I’d been this way for far longer than I wanted to admit.

 

“Phil,” Clint practically whined. “Get that big dick of yours over here and knot me.”

 

Ah, fuck. I even loved his obnoxious sense of humor. Who was I kidding? I was in love with Clint Barton.

 

“You’re a size queen. Of course,” I pretended to complain as I walked over and picked out a condom.

 

“Hey, Thor’s bigger and I turned him down,” Clint said, watching with eager eyes as I rolled the condom on. “Although, you ever thought of growing a beard? Could be sexy.”

 

“I don’t think this is the time to talk about Thor.” I positioned myself behind him and braced his hips with my hands. “Since I’m the one about to fuck you into the mattress.”

 

“Oooooh.” Clint closed his eyes at the first touch of my cock to his ass. “Such language, Coulson. Might give me ideas. Sir.”

 

I pushed in, breaching the muscle . “You have no idea what I’ve thought about doing with you. Things that would make Fury blush.”

 

“Oh, fuck.” Clint breathed out as I pressed on in slow increments. “So big. Yes, that’s it. All the way. Fill me all up.”

 

“So full you can’t think of anything else,” I promised. By the time I was all the way in, Clint was panting, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Just wait until you get my knot.”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned. “Yes, please. Now, please. God, Phil, do it.”

 

I’d like to say I controlled my alpha instinct to pull out and slam back in him hard enough to rattle his teeth. He was so tight and slick and squeezing my cock just like I belonged there. I did manage two easier thrusts before I gave in and started truly fucking him like there was no tomorrow. He took it all and begged for more, demanding I leave marks and bruises, thrashing beneath me when I spread him out on the mattress with an abandon that only revved me up more.

 

Neither of us was going to last long, not with the extended foreplay and the strength of our cycles. My knot began to grow, catching on Clint’s ass with each thrust then getting too big to easily slip in. His cock was red and dripping on the pad; reaching around his hip, I stroked him in time to my shallow rocking until he came with a groan, spilling over my hand. As the spasms rocked through him, I pushed my knot inside, the muscle stretching wide then clamping back down to hold it tight. Clint shouted, spurted even more as I kept milking him with my fingers then I was coming, my eyes glazing over with the pure pleasure of my release.

 

Exhausted but tied together, we maneuvered our way onto our left sides, Clint spooned up inside my arms. My heart took a while to slow down from its race so I absently stroked Clint’s stomach until I got my breath back.

 

“Best. Heat. Ever,” Clint mumbled, snuggling up. “Gonna keep you in my medicine cabinet for next time.”

 

Being so close meant I felt him tense as he realized what he’d said. I hoped I had the right answer. “Next time, we’ll plan this out and get one of those cabins in the mountains with a hot tub and a view.”

 

Clint turned his head; blue eyes, wide with unfettered emotion in their depths, stared up at me. “Next time,” he repeated slowly. “As in the next time I go into heat. Months from now … or maybe sooner with Thor around.”

 

“That time. And the next. And the one after that. And so on,” I told him.

 

He sighed and relaxed, wiggling his shoulders so he could lift up and kiss me, a slow easy brush of lips that was so different than the rush before. “I can do that,” he said.

 

We kissed until Clint began to drift off and my knot loosened enough for me to pull out. I got up and quickly cleaned up, removing the pad and replacing it with another before climbing back in bed and covering us both.

 

* * *

 

I was whimpering when I woke, cramps rolling in my gut, slick leaking out. I hated that feeling, the mess and the sweaty sheets wrapped around me. Curling in upon myself and riding out the waves of pain.

 

“Shhhh.”

 

Warm hands slipped down my belly, a kiss on my neck, Phil’s scent enveloping me. The haze of heat parted and I took a deep breath, feeling the spasms recede.

 

“How about a nice hot bath?”

 

I nodded. He left me and I shivered, but then he was back, helping me sit up, giving me a bottle of water and a couple muscle relaxants to take while he went to start the water. When he guided me into the bathroom, steam rose from the tub, aroma of berries from Tasha’s bath oil she’d give me mixing perfectly with Phil’s own smell. Tony didn’t go halfway on any detail; the tub was a monument to extravagant excess; a tub within a tub, the water filled to the edge and overflowed, recirculated for a constant flow. Jets flowed with a continual effervescent bubbles. I fucking loved it, best thing ever invented for sore muscles.

 

I eased down into water so hot that red flushed all the way up to the roots of my hair. But, damn, it felt so good when Phil slipped in behind me and pulled me into his arms. Sweat beads ran down my neck, and I tilted my head back, closing my eyes and feeling Phil’s heartbeat through my skin. The pills were working; Phil pressed the lip of a chilled bottle to my lips and I drank another gulp of what proved to be Gatorade.

 

“Better?’ he asked.

 

“Much,” I sighed. “Might even be ready for another round soon.”

 

“Unhuh. You just let me know,” Phil’s voice grew distant as I dozed off.

 

The water foamed around me and I floated between sleep and waking, so very relaxed and completely safe. I shuffled to the bed when Phil hustled me out of the water and toweled me down. The sheets were clean, the room dark, and Phil’s embrace warm.

 

Next time I woke, it was my throbbing cock that dragged me from sleep. Sprawled on my back, my body felt boneless and heavy; I ran my hand between the sheets but no one was there.

 

“Phil?” Had it all been a heat induced dream? Wouldn’t be the first time he’d fantasized about Phil in this bed.

 

“Hey.” Phil came through the door, a glass of juice in his hand. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Better. I think it’s starting to taper off. At least it’s not fuck or die anymore, more like,  hey, there’s a really hot guy over there with a lovely knot just waiting to fill you up.” I grinned and kicked off the covers. “You could do something about that, you know. The whole empty thing.”

 

He crossed the room and sat the juice on the table. “Drink some of this first. You don’t want to get dehydrated.”

 

“Yes, sir,” I said, just to see the way his eyes darkened at that phrase. Oh, we were going to explore that little kink later. Sitting up, I took the glass and drank half down in one gulp.

 

Three days we’d been in bed, and more orgasms than I cared to count (fourteen, a record). We’d burned hot together, cycles synced to the point where he knew before I did that another episode was coming. In between, when I wasn’t sleeping, Phil bundled me up on the couch, keeping track of when I’d taken medicine, making me hot chocolate, and marathoning True Detective and Orphan Black. He ordered pancakes from that diner over on 4th; important safety tip, syrup is best used in the kitchen and not the bedroom. The aches and pains were still there, but much less than I expected. If every heat was like this one, I’d never bother with suppressants again. Who knew that having the right alpha with me would make such a difference?

 

“No headache yet?” Phil asked, joining me on the bed. “You usually get one at the tail end.”

 

“It’s almost like you’ve been watching me all these years,” I joked, putting the glass back down. Yeah, Phil had always known more than I did about myself. “It will probably start later today. Docs say it’s something to do with the change in hormone levels in my brain; dopamine or serotonin or something like that. Get a headache when they drop and when they come back up.”

 

“That’s a bitch.” Phil’s fingers grazed along my shoulder blade. The man had magic hands; he’d given me a couple massages in between the frantic stages. I could live with more of that too. “I learned a few thai massage techniques for headaches we can try; my sister has bad migraines so I’m always on the lookout for holistic ways to help. The medicines don’t do it for her.”

 

That was Phil to the core; alpha bad ass with the heart of a loving omega. I leaned over and kissed him, orange taste and all, curling my hand around his neck and holding him still while I explored his mouth. Without the insistent drive to fuck right that second, I had time to do other things. Kiss him slowly, slide my hand along the stubble on his jaw, ease him onto his back, take a meandering path along down his neck, sucking in divots of skin, nipping with my teeth until I came to that bump that smelled so damn good. I licked it once, then twice, then again. Phil moaned my name; his hands clamped onto my shoulders.

 

“Do it,” he said.

 

I looked up; his lips curled up in a smile as he gazed back. “Don’t you want to talk about it first?”

 

“What’s there to talk about? I’m sure. If you want to, do it.”

 

Want to? Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I even believed in bonding much less finding someone who’d want me. That it was Phil? Hell, yes, I’d take the chance. Rather than answer, I kissed him again, pouring the last of my heat exacerbated need into it. When he tried to flip me over, I resisted, scooting us into the middle of the bed without breaking contact with our lips. He got the message when I straddled his thighs and licked along the edge of his scar, the raised, puckered skin hard and slick. Fingers sinking into my hair, he let me taste the length of it from top to bottom, kissing each ridge and dip. Then I followed the trail of dark hair down to his cock, pressing his legs apart and kneeling between them so I could wrap a hand around the knob at the bottom, deflated now but damn impressive all the same.

 

Thing was, I loved this part. The weight of a thick cock on my tongue, the tiny movements as I closed my mouth around it. An oral fixation, one shrink had told me; that was why, he claimed, I shot my mouth off with constant sass. Maybe it was the omega chemicals floating around in my brain but having my throat full made me feel complete. I licked the slit first then curled my tongue around the head and along the silky ridge. Down the underside where the vein pulsed when I pressed and into the nest of wiry hair at the bottom. Back up the hot mottled skin to the head and then the same all over again, catching every angle until Phil’s cock was dripping wet with my saliva. Then I parted my lips and sucked in just the tip, nursing it gently at first then harder as I slipped down to get the whole head in my mouth.

 

“Clint.” Phil made my name a plea, and I had no problem giving him what he was begging for.

 

I took him in, lips sliding down; it would take a few times before my throat relaxed and opened wider. Ah, how I loved the musky scent that assailed my nose, the way Phil’s cock bumped the roof and jumped inside my mouth. I circled his balls with my fingers, teasing them until he clenched his thighs and thrust up, helpless beneath me. Then I went to town, sucking him down as far as I could go and swallowing when his head was deep. My lips stretched around the top of the growing knot; slick was flowing down my own thighs, I was so damn turned on.

 

Just as Phil started to strain, tension flowing through him, I stopped, crawling up his body, wiping spit off the corner of my mouth. I wanted him inside me; it was easy enough to slide down onto his cock, I was so wet and ready, still loose and open from the last few days. He clamped his fingers around my hips, holding me down until his knot pushed in. God, but that felt so amazing, the way I stretched around him and clenched tight again as I raised up on my knees, all the way until just the tip remained. Then I dropped down until the knot breached me again. Leaning forward onto my hand, I began to ride Phil hard because I liked it that way, Phil thrusting up as I pressed down, meeting halfway. From here, Phil’s neck was close, his head turned as an offering. I couldn’t resist; running my tongue over the gland, Phil jerked and groaned my name again. His scent grew stronger, rolling off his skin and into my nose and mouth. I didn’t know what would happen, just that the urge to find out was too much to resist, especially when Phil wanted it.

 

I sucked the skin into my mouth and ran my teeth over the gland. Phil thrust up hard; I was going to have bruises from how tight he was holding on. Damn that was a distracting thought; Phil’s marks on my body; fingertip rounds, teeth marks, purple and black dotted over my skin. I closed my eyes and bit down; the tang of iron filled my mouth then a burst of Phil’s scent flooded through me, tangible and heavy on my tongue. He shouted and sank deep as he came, his knot swelling even more until it felt like he was jammed in so tight he’d never let me go. With a growl, he flipped us over even as he came in waves, small thrusts that drove me crazy as the edge of his knot pressed against my prostate. Turning my head, I bared my neck, and he dragged his teeth down my neck before the sharp incisors tore into my skin.

 

“Fuck!” I was pretty sure that was me shouting as a rush of pure ecstasy roared through my body, down my arms and legs, shooting out of my fingers and making my head spin. I’d used an epipen before on an op; damn thing had saved my life. The doctors had told me that I would feel it cresting like a wave as the medicine entered my veins and ran to my heart. That’s exactly what this was like but it was Phil that flooded my blood and sent sparks along the neurons. Phil, who was filling me and making me whole. Phil, who was taking up residence in my heart. Phil, who was my rock and my partner and my handler and my lover. Phil, who I couldn’t live without and needed more than air. And, god damn it, I didn’t care about the sappy declarations that were pouring out of my mouth as I spilled in the space between us, cock jerking and coming without even a hand on it.

 

I could barely register what Phil was saying, the protestations of love and promises of forever. We were lost in a haze of a bonding like something from one of those boilerplate romance stories and it was damn amazing.

 

“Holy shit,” I managed when the aftershocks … and there were a lot of them varying in magnitude … finally subsided. “Guess there is such a thing as a bonding gland.”

 

I felt Phil’s amusement; he had my blood on his lips, and my bite was still bleeding down his chest. He wiped at the corner of my mouth with his thumb which came away red.  I licked it off, and he shook his head. “Not going to happen again for a good while. I think that was the last go around until I recharge.”

 

My stomach picked that moment to rumble loudly. “I could use a hot shower, some food, and some pre-headache pain meds. Might even be up for leaving the room to use the espresso machine upstairs once we can.”

 

Phil rolled them onto their sides, holding me tight in his arms. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

But first, another nap.

 

* * *

 

“Friends!” Thor called as he came through the doorway. “Excellent timing. I have something for you.”

 

The caffeine was working its magic; along with the fantastic sex, the bonding hormones were zinging through my body like the best kind of high. I didn’t care that I was wearing Clint’s ratty 49ers sweat pants and a worn Zeppelin shirt or that I was grinning like a loon. I leaned against the countertop, shoulder to shoulder with Clint, bodies touching, and calmly watched Thor deposit the items he was carrying beside us. He paused when he got closer, sniffing the air. If possible, his smile grew wider.

 

“Congratulations! This is wonderful!” Thor enveloped us both in a bear hug; I juggled my cup to keep from spilling the hot liquid. He stepped back. “How fortuitous that Sif came to help transport the wayward cats. She was kind enough to return with this jar of cream for Clint’s headaches, and she gifted you with some of her famous konfektkake. Darcy calls it the dessert of super awesomeness. Consider these apologies for my presence causing havoc with your cycles.”

 

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I told him. Not with the way things worked out, that’s for sure. “But we appreciate it all the same.”

 

Clint opened the cover of the earthenware dish and snagged a spoon from the bin. What was inside looked like a cross between a glazed cake and a tiramisu, dark crumbled topping over white icing. Dipping the spoon in one edge, Clint sliced off a small piece and revealed more layers underneath; popping it in his mouth, he closed his eyes and sighed

 

“Oh, fuck,” he full out moaned. My cock made a half-hearted attempt to respond to that familiar sound. “Phil. This is freakin’ amazing. Like summer and winter in one bite. Sweet but tart and a bit of spice. Here, try it.” He grabbed a second spoon, filled it up and handed it to me. Then he opened a cabinet, got out two plates, grabbed a serving scoop and began ladeling a helping for each of us.

 

The flavor burst in my mouth; chocolately with caramel but something vaguely salty and maybe a hint of mint and … some sort of peppers? It was creamy with a layer of soft texture that might be a cake or cookie. I certainly didn’t argue when Clint handed me my plateful.

 

“Hey,” Steve greeted them as he wandered into the room. His shoulders were slumped and he paused by the couch, keeping his distance. “So, um, yeah, sorry about the whole tossing Tony over my shoulder thing. That was inappropriate behavior. If you want to file a sexual harassment claim, I’ll understand.”

 

“It’s fine, Steve,” I said, my mouth full of deliciousness. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

 

“I don’t like losing control, but Tony could drive a saint mad.” Steve’s head lifted and he scented the air. “You smell … different?”

 

“Aye, bonded mates blend their scents,” Thor explained. “Their body chemistries change to match each other; from what Volstagg has said, others do not smell as good nor as strong.”

 

“Wait. Bonded? You two?” Steve’s eyes lit up; he looked as if the wheels were turning in his head.

 

“It’s a recent development,” I answered.

 

“About time too,” Natasha said, scooping up some dessert for herself. Clint reached out to smack her hand but stopped as she arched an eyebrow at him. “You owe me for this and you know it.”

 

“She has a point,” I agreed. Clint pouted until he took his next bite. No one could be unhappy eating Sif’s creation.

 

“I don’t understand,” Steve pressed on. “What happened?”

 

Clint looked at me; I nodded for him to go ahead.

 

“Actually,” he said, “it’s all Thor’s fault.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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